


The Mask Broke

by ShipMasterNepeta



Category: Bakugan Battle Brawlers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Gender Issues, Multiple Personalities, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-08-04 21:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16354598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipMasterNepeta/pseuds/ShipMasterNepeta
Summary: After Masquerade brakes his mask, he thought the worst thing he'd have to deal with was a binder and some discomfort. However, when he finds that the boundary that separates him from Alice starts to slowly unravel, the question becomes where does she end and he begin?





	1. It broke, Hal. The mask broke, Hal.

“What do you mean it broke?” Hal G screeched over his shoulder, as his full attention was still on the machine in front of him, his voice still audible over the clink-clanking of his tinkering with it.

 

“I mean it broke, as in broken.” Masquerade explained. “No longer functioning. The past tense of break, or to make or become inoperab-”

 

“I know what it means! I meant, how did it break!?”

 

“It fell on the floor, and just shattered.”

 

“It fell on the floor? How?”

 

“I, um...dropped it.”

 

“You dropped it.”

 

“Look, it slipped out of my hands, fell onto the floor, and shattered alright? It was kind of a flimsy piece of shit-”

 

“Please do NOT use that language while using my granddaughter’s voice!”

 

Masquerade heaved a heavy, annoyed sigh, himself hating the soft feminine voice that came out: the voice of Alice Gehabich. “I dislike using this voice just as much as you dislike hearing it, but that’s beside the point.” The boy (girl?) took a moment to look at the broken remains of his once treasured mask. “Look, just get me another one okay?”

 

“Get you another-” Hal G finally stopped what he was doing and turned around, his twisted greenish face looking down on him with bewilderment (man, the negative energy did NOT treat him well). “Get you another one? Get you another one?!” He continued to shout, becoming increasingly flustered. “Oh yeah, sure, let me just go into my hidden mask closet _filled_ with spare reality-altering facial wear, problem solved!”

 

Masquerade rolled his eyes (or Alice’s eyes; he generally liked to think he didn’t have visible eyes to roll, given that usually only he would ever be aware of the fact that he rolled his eyes). “No need to be an asshole about it, Hal.”

 

“What did I _just_ say about-”

 

“-using that language with your granddaughter’s laughably pathetic voice, I got it.”

 

The boy (technically girl) crossed his arms as his (technically Alice’s) face twisted in frustration; he had no clue how Alice could put up with this man for so many years, even if this was him at his literal, negatively-charged worst. Before the elf-eared old man could even open his mouth, Masquerade shoved the broken mask in front of his face.

 

“Here, just fix this then.”

 

Hal G had his mouth already opened to spew something out, but closed it with another frustrated sneer. “I can’t just _fix it_ . That mask was made from Naga’s presence, the silent core, an energy _completely beyond_ my comprehension. I literally don’t have the technology to even _touch_ that mask, much less fix it!”

 

Now it was Masquerade’s turn to stare in bewilderment. “You _literally_ created instant teleportation in the shape and size of a _card_ -” He waved his hands above him, gesturing to the torpid surroundings. “- _in a cave!_ ” He then shoved his arms to either side of him, gesturing to the rundown, ancient looking machinery all around. “- _with scraps!_ ”

 

As Masquerade shouted, Hal G began rubbing the bridge of his nose; the sight of his pure, innocent little granddaughter waving her arms around and shouting in such a rude manner was enough to elicit the first few pangs of a migraine.

 

“My lab is NOT a cave; these are highly advanced machines that took decades of dedicated research to create, and folding space into the shape of a card is much easier when you have access to a machine that can open a portal to a near infinite amount of reality-altering energy, in comparison to something that changes the shape of a _person’s_ _body_. Are you sure you have access to my grand daughter’s memories, because even _she_ knew that much.” He rolled his eyes as if anything he just said was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Masquerade sneered in frustration, mostly because Hal G was right. From what he could tell from his host’s memories, Alice usually _did_ have a good idea of what was happening. Whenever the old man was ranting, theorizing, or just speaking his thoughts out loud, she was the only pair of ears he had to have listen to him, and she soaked it all up. Heck, she was more or less an unofficial lab assistant. He had to admit, she was far more intelligent than he gave her credit for.

 

That just made him all the more angry, though. Everything about Alice Gehabich pissed him off: her constant kind, caring composure, her weak, pathetic stature, the fact that she was probably the most intelligent of the battle brawlers yet refused to ever brawl, given her disgusting pacifist ideology, and thus only amounted to being a “strategist” and support, cheering on everyone else from the side lines. She could very well be the best, _way_ better than that child prancing around with a Drago and angsty (unfairly attractive) ninja. What a _waste_ ! It made him grind his teeth just thinking about it. That was why he _hated_ using her body in any way; he wanted nothing to do with her. All the more reason to get the mask fixed so he could get his _real_ body back. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake as her. No, he was going to make it to the top, and force everyone to accept it.

 

Relaxing his jaw, he started off toward a large machine in the back of the room, the one that could open a portal to 'you-know-who'. “Fine, whatever. I’ll just ask Naga to make me another one then.”

 

Hal G extended an arm, stopping him. “One does not simply summon the lord of Vestroia for such a simple, menial request.”

 

In any ordinary situation, Masquerade would probably have hidden his growing anger behind his usual smugness. Now, however, he did nothing to even remotely hide it. Biting down on Alice’s uncomfortably soft lips, he slowly turned to met Hal G’s eyes with his own glare.

 

“You can’t _fix it_...right?” He asked through gritted teeth. “There’s no other way of repairing the mask here, right? Which means that getting Naga to recreate it is the only way of solving this, right? And we are _both_ going through _so much trouble_ to help him, right?” Hal G didn’t answer, but his hardened stare faltered. Masquerade took that as an answer to his question.

 

“Then why. The _FUCK_! NOT!?” He practically screamed. Hal G turned away from the gaze; the sight of his pure, innocent grand-daughter staring at him with such hatred was too much even for him.

 

“Okay,” said Hal G, “I think we started on the wrong foot here. I mean, how should I know whether or not I can fix it? I mean, it looks like the one-way glass was the only part damaged, right? There shouldn’t be much to repair, then.”

The mask-less masked man let out a heavy sigh of relief as he relaxed Alice’s body, somewhat glad he wouldn’t have to deal with their boss in that state.

 

“Alright boy,” Hal G continued, “how badly damaged is it? Put it on, and let’s see.”

 

Masquerade complied with the request, sticking the mask where he usually would above his nose. It stuck there for a few seconds before peeling right off, causing him to jerk forward and try and stop it from falling. After a few seconds of juggling with it, he finally caught it firmly with both hands.

 

“Huh. That’s...well, that’s pretty bad. That’s actually worse than I…” was all Masquerade heard before the old man went into a series of mumbling that he couldn’t really understand. Hal G usually did that when he went deep into thought. Masquerade stood there patiently with the mask in his hands, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in Alice’s body; he was not used to being conscious in it for more than a second or two, much less the full half hour he’d been through. Finally, after what felt like hours, Hal G’s muttering stopped.

 

“Well...I change my mind. I can’t fix it-”

 

“ _What!?_ ”

 

“- _completely_. Completely. Jeez, let me finish my sentences, will you?”

 

“Oh… ***ahem*** continue.”

 

“Magnetic interface, I can do. Voice synthesizers, that I can add. The...well, the _hair_ might be a little difficult. I think the anti-gravity tech combined with light holographics would be a bit too much just to get the hair to look right-”

 

“They know me with super saiyan hair, they’re getting super saiyan hair.”

 

“-never mind. Give me that, and I can add all those features by tomorrow, okay?”

 

Hal G reached out his hand for the mask, but the boy didn’t move, continuing to stare at him. “You kind of forgot the most important thing, Hal.”

 

The old man gave out a defeated sigh; he should’ve known as much. “Okay, there is _no way_ I can make something that can transform your entire body. The very logistics behind something like that are centuries beyond me, even _with_ the advanced technology I have now.”

 

“*sigh* Gonna talk to Naga now.”

 

“WAIT! I said wait, dammit! Grrr...is it really necessary?”

 

“What, turning into a guy? Almost completely.”

 

“You’re just supposed to match the look and voice, anything else is just superficial.”

 

“Really then? What about all _this_?” Masquerade said, while gesturing to his (or Alice’s) body.

 

“I mean,” said Hal G, “the amount of physical difference between your body and hers is largely covered by the clothes-”

 

“Uggh, you know what I mean! I specifically mean…* **ahem** * mean…”

 

Hal G watched in amazement as the slightest hint of a blush brushed along his granddaughter’s face as her hands rose up and gestured toward her jutting chest.

 

“I mean _these_ . They’re * **ahem** * they’re kind of big and noticeable, aren’t they?”

 

Hal G’s face twisted in horror. “Can we please not start describing my granddaughter’s... _bosom?!_ ”

 

Masquerade let out a snort, trying but failing to cover his increasingly reddening face with a smug grin.

 

“Bosom, really? Who even calls it that?”

 

“I’m being serious here! And why are you getting flustered over your _own body?!_ ” Hal G shouted in frustration, waving his arms frantically.

 

Masquerade returned the gesture with a very unfriendly looking scowl.  “Because it’s _not_ my body, and it’s really weird, okay? I’m just saying, my big ass boobs are _totally_ noticeable in these or _any_ clothes. And if there’s one thing I know from Alice’s memories, it’s that guys _always_ notice hers, especially when working part-time as a waitress. _Always_.”

 

Masquerade let that last statement sink in a bit. A sudden, almost horrid realization came to Hal G.

 

“Wait...does Alice...are you saying...does Alice have to deal with any sexual harassment?”

 

The questioned seemed to surprise Masquerade as his face darkened. “Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know.”

 

“Okay, now I have to know; how much sexual harassment does she have to deal with on a daily schedule?”

 

Frustration was starting to build inside the maskless masked man, and this topic was weirdly touching a nerve. “Oh my god, stop acting like you care! We both know you don’t actually give a shit, _neither_ of us give a shit, and, if you did, you wouldn’t have your granddaughter’s body going around, betraying her friends, and doing your dirty work!”

 

That hit. Hard. Hal G’s face fell almost immediately, and the boy thought for a moment he might’ve gone too far.

 

“You’re right...you’re right…” Hal G’s voice became uncomfortably silent as he turned his back, giving Masquerade hints of a negative emotion he was sure he wasn’t supposed to feel: guilt. He quickly shoved away the notion and the feeling, returning to the offensive.

 

“Look, I’m just saying that-”

 

“Do you know what a binder is?”

 

“Huh?” The boy voiced in surprise, “What, like the thing you use to hold papers together?”

 

“No- well, yes, but not…” Hal G sighed, “The binder _I_ mean is something used by...well, someone who wishes to hide their chest.”

 

“That’s- wait, that’s an actual thing?”

 

“Yes, of course it is. I can make you that as well, alright? That, along with everything else, should help you keep your damn illusion. Happy?”

 

There was a clear edge in his voice, though Masquerade still couldn’t see his face.

 

“Well...no.” Masquerade said. “I want _my_ body, as in the body _I_ use, not hers!”

 

“Every problem concerning your identity being discovered is covered. What other reason could you possibly need?”

 

Hal G’s usually loud, raspy voice was now frighteningly quiet. He knew that, after that last comment, he was on thin ice, and this conversation was dangerously close to ending. He wasn’t about to back down about this, though; not by a long shot.

 

“Because I just...don’t feel good using this body! It feels-”

 

Weak? Pathetic? Like the opposite of everything he stood for and tried to present himself as? When he got down to it, he just flat out hated Alice and wanted nothing of her to be present in himself despite the fact that he was sharing a body with her. Sure, there was no actual problem if everyone saw the same masked marauder, but _he_ would not feel right.

 

“It feels _what,_ boy?!”

 

Masquerade's attention was brought back to the old man’s shrieking but quiet voice (a contradiction that he somehow managed to create). He closed his mouth quickly; he could tell that he has crossed a line, and that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted. He walked up beside Hal G and shoved the masked into his side, catching the man off guard.

 

“You know what? Fine, fix the damn mask however much you can; I can brawl circles around those kids with or without my body.”

 

The old man slowly reached and grabbed the mask from his granddaughter’s hands.

 

“Good. Now leave, I will have you set by the morning.”

 

And, with that, the old man walked off, closing off any other possible comment as he exited into his office and slammed the door shut behind him. The boy let out a long shaky breath; he was not happy with this outcome. However, he wasn’t going to let that get to him. Whining and complaining that things didn’t go his way was something _Dan_ would do; he would not go down to that level. No, he WILL prevail, even if he must use the body of everything he despised all in one package.  

 

As he walked away, a renewed sense of resolve filled him to the core, filtering out any doubt or discomfort he might still be feeling.

 

 _I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings_ too _badly_.

 

The boy stopped as that thought went through his mind. Was that...his thought? He shook his head, shaking away any possible gnawing thoughts before they could even solidify. It was just a misnomer, some weird remnant from Alice’s memories, nothing more. After all, the only thing that would possibly make a difference was his mask breaking, and there was no way that that could possibly affect him too significantly.

 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> interesting fact: Iron Man came out in 2008 while the furst Bakugan episode came out in 2007. this means that Iron Man refurence is not only dated, but also not time accurate. you know what else is out of place? no one, and I mean no one, even conceiving this concept. it's actually almost painful s33ing all the "Alice and Masquerade are sepurrate people" in tags and not a single purrson expurrloring the aspect of them actually being the same purrson. this was one of the furst shows I got into when I paws younger, so in my attempts to reclaim my cringe-worthy youth I'm writing it myself.


	2. Are Those Boobs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: incredibly juvenile humor ahead. you have b33n warned.

Masquerade felt his jaw stiffen, and his face pale. Disbelief filled his system, freezing his mind and body.

 

“Excuse me?” The masked boy asked. In all his time of existence (which was, admittedly, short), in every possible universe, in his wildest _dreams_ , he never imagined he'd ever hear Dan Kuso say to him…

 

“I asked, are those boobs?”

 

To say Masquerade was baffled would be an understatement. Here he was, about to destroy Dan and shove him in his place, and, with one dumb comment, he was suddenly on the defensive.

 

“I mean, you’re a guy right?” Dan continued in his oblivious manner that would be endearing if it weren't so obnoxious, “So you shouldn’t have boobs, right? So...what’s goin’ on up there?”

 

This shouldn’t have been a surprise: Dan being blunt and insensitive towards anything he did or said, like some aspy genki girl? Totally in character. So, his commentary on a man’s possible pair of chesticles was not supposed to be the least bit surprising. It shouldn’t have even faltered Masquerade. Yet here he was, at a complete loss for words at a mere dumb comment.

 

It didn’t help that he, too, was uncomfortably aware of his chest. In what he now knew was misguided logic, he wore the exact same clothing he usually wore as Masquerade post losing his original mask, and it was clearly not made to accommodate his now more feminine figure. Now the front of his shirt was just a tad too tight, and a tad too _visible_.

 

When he had made the point to Hal G that Alice’s chest was too noticeable, he mostly just wanted to push any and all arguments he possibly could for why having gender-bender faceware was important, which failed and promptly backfired. Given how much of a big deal he made of it, he found himself incapable of properly backtracking without angering the mad scientist further (how was he supposed to know that a ‘binder’ was a thing?), and thus ended up accepting the bizarre article of clothing before promptly throwing it into a corner. Apparently, binding wasn’t a simple thing, and it had its own long list of proper procedures and health warnings. It shouldn’t have surprised him, since it was basically squeezing one’s breasts so closely to one’s chest that they were no longer visible; that in itself sounded painful. To properly use it, he’d have to go through a hassle each time, taking control to follow a special procedure, and, even then, he could only wear it for so long before it started being a health risk. Knowing that, Masquerade thought it was no longer unreasonable to just ignore the binder’s existence; after all, his clothes probably did cover up most of the difference.

 

He didn’t actually think it would be a legitimate problem. The irony was not lost on him. Taking a deep breathe, Masquerade tried to compose himself. He needed to say something. Anything.

 

“Dan, what is wrong with you?” A bit less tact than he was going for, but it was, in fact, ‘something’ by definition. Therefore, it served its purpose. He decided, though, that it probably did little in terms of accomplishing anything, so he decided to try and continue.

 

“Dan, sweetheart,” he began, trying to sound as patronizing as possible, “I know that expecting any adult behavior from you is asking too much, but there are things you just don’t say to people. Things like that.”

 

Dan tilted his head like a confused puppy. He wasn’t used to seeing his self-appointed arch nemesis getting flustered, of all things. Dan smiled confidently, and he did what any stubborn dog would do when it found a weakness: bite down, and never let up.

 

“What, point out that you have boobs?”

 

Masquerade fought every impulse in his body from facepalming and/or pulling his hair out. “Yes Dan, like that.” The masked boy said through clenched teeth. The fact that he wasn’t sure if he should be angry or worried only further panicked him. He needed to calm down; this was getting out of hand. Dan’s smile, however, only widened.

 

“So, you admit those are boobs?” Dan shouted while pointing a finger in triumph.

 

Masquerade promptly choked on his own saliva. He spent a good minute coughing as the other boy laughed at him.

 

“Ha ha, I didn’t hear a no! Did you hear that, Drago? Masquerade has boobs!” The boy shouted to the massive dragon in front of him. Dan had already lost the first two rounds, losing both his other Bakugan and now relying on his most powerful asset: Pyrus Drago.

 

“I’m sorry, what was that Dan?” The dragon, though not needing to move his mouth to speak (for some reason), still used his mouth to convey confusion. If Masquerade were to guess, he figured the dragon was just as annoyed by Dan’s juvenile behavior as he was.

 

“May I remind you?” Said the dragon. “I’m not human, I don’t know what these ‘boobs’ are.”

 

Just as Masquerade recovered, the dragon’s comment sent him right back into another fit of discomforting coughs before he even had a chance to speak. The torture continued.

 

“Oh, right!” Not at all deterred by the dragon’s ignorance, Dan smiled brightly as he reached up and grabbed his chest. “So, boobs are these big, jiggly things made of fat that girls grow out of their chest!” As he explained, he began to shake his hands up and down his chest, simulating a pair of what Masquerade could only assume was some pre-pubescent child’s fantastic idea of human mammary glands. As dumb as it was, it only made the masked man’s thankfully mostly covered face grow ever hotter.

 

“Is that what those are called?” The dragon asked as he tilted his head and gazed down at Masquerade, looking almost comically serious. “Hmm, yes, it does appear that this is the case. I wonder, though, what exactly the functionality of these ‘boobs’ are?”

 

“Drago, don’t encourage him!” Masquerade just barely made out through his constricted throat, eyes watering and face redder than a tomato.

 

Dan rubbed his finger across his nose smuggly. “Oh that's easy! They feed babies!”

 

Drago turned around back toward Dan with alarm, the battle and Masquerade himself all but forgotten. “Feed babies?! So...humans remove them from their bodies to nourish their young? How grotesque!”

 

Dan let out a laugh. “No, silly! They have milk in them! And girls, like, squeeze it out of them. Like cows!”

 

“Oh my _god_ , Dan, that is _NOT_ how lactation works!” Masquerade made out, fully recovered. His face was still cherry red, but he felt like it was more out of anger than embarrassment (at least, that’s what he told himself).

 

Dan furrowed his eyes. “Lac-what now?”

 

Masquerade rolled his eyes, not caring that literally no one, save for himself, would be aware of the fact that he just rolled his eyes. “What, did you sleep through Sex ed., or are you really just that stupid?”

 

Dan responded by snickering, a big playful smile on his face. “You said sex.”

 

Unbelievable.

 

Masquerade had to manually hold his hand down to keep him from slapping his own face hard enough to break his mask a second time. He didn’t even know how to respond.

 

As if things couldn’t get dumber, Drago looked up with a sudden look of inspiration.

 

“Wait, I know that one! Sex! That one I am very familiar with!”

 

“(Oh for the love of god), STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! No more! I’m just going to go ahead and shut this whole conversation down before it gets any worse! We are done!” Masquerade shouted, almost out of breath.

 

Before either of the two opponents could respond, the masked boy threw a card onto the playing field and chucked his next Bakugan (a little too hard) right onto it. With a pop, Reaper’s form came out, strategically placed for max effect. The fact that it was also right in the way of Dan’s line of sight was just a coincidence.

 

As Reaper appeared, he sent a scowl from his already permanently scowled face. “Ah, Drago. We meet aga-”

 

“Yeah, no, we’re not doing that.” Masquerade interjected, trying to get through the battle as soon as possible. He ignored the perma-scowl he received from his Bakugan as he activated another card. At the same time, Dan activated a card of his own and the two monsters were at equal power, ending the turn in a draw. The masked boy cursed to himself. He was letting Dan’s behavior get to him and making amateur mistakes.

 

Dan’s ever confident smile still stood strong. “Ah, what’s the matter? Don’t like me talking about your boobies?”

 

Oh no.

Oh god.

He added an ‘ie’ at the end of it.

 

“They’re not boobs, you impudent brat!” The masked boy shouted angrily. He was starting to act just as childishly, only with cliche villain dialogue that made even Masquerade cringe.

 

Dan frowned. “But my penis works just fine.”

 

Once again, the masked boy was astounded by sheer idiocy. “What does- I said _im-pu-dent_ , not-” Masquerade froze mid sentence, “Wait, how do you know what _impotent_ means, but not know what lactation-”

 

All at once, it became clear: Dan was trolling him. Dan saw him get upset at a word and proceeded to push it further. And Masquerade was falling for it completely.

 

“Hey, if they aren’t boobies then what are they?” Dan continued, “Apples? Tissues? Silicon? Pudding-filled balloons? ”

 

Masquerade let out a deep breath. He was done letting Dan get under his skin.

 

“You know what? Dan Kuso, you are hands down the most _childish, impulsive, offensive_ creature I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. You are a terrible brawler, whose only reason for winning is being lucky enough to have an absurdly powerful other-dimensional being at your command that you can use to brute force your way through most obstacles without a sweat. Your very _existence_ is an insult to anyone who even puts an ounce of work into their life! How those friends of yours put up with your immature behavior on a daily basis, I’ll never know!”

 

For a moment, Dan just stood there in surprise.

 

The moment passed, and a smirk adorned his lips. “Are you coming onto me?”

 

…

 

For a moment, nothing happened. Masquerade stood there with a neutral expression, completely unmoving. Both Reaper and Drago, now in ball form, frantically looked between the two boys. Dan, after a moment, felt his smile wane just slightly as the silence carried on.

 

And on...

 

And on…

 

Dan was starting to get nervous. Did he go too far? Did his last comment just phaze the other boy that much? Was...was he _actually_ coming onto Dan?

 

Speculation ended as Masquerade reached to his side and grabbed a card. “Field close.”

 

Without warning, the psychedelic surroundings that usually made up the Bakugan battle arena vanished into the city lot they were originally in. Dan’s eyes bulged out of his head at the sudden change.

 

“Congrats, Dan.” Masquerade said as he walked closer, “You won the battle by forfeit.”

 

Dan only looked on more confused. He won? Against Masquerade? By _forfeit_?! Before his thoughts could develop any further, Masquerade suddenly grabbed him by the collar forcefully.

 

“I’d say something clever, but honestly I just want to see you fall into garbage.” The masked boy said. Further confounded by this statement, it suddenly occurred to Dan that they were no longer standing in the middle of a city lot. They were, instead, now on top of a building. The edge of a building. With him on said edge.

 

“W-what the hell?!” Dan shouted as he suddenly started waving his arms around to keep balance, Masquerade's grip being the only thing keeping him up. That mercy quickly disappeared as the masked boy released his grip, and gave a little shove for good measure.

 

“Have a nice fall.” Masquerade muttered as Dan suddenly found nothing underneath him, the masked boy vanishing in a blink of light. Time started to slow down for him. Was this the end? Was he really going to die like this? And after winning a Bakugan battle against Masquerade? Well, by forfeit, but he still counted that as a major win.

 

His life flashed before his eyes. There...really wasn’t much. He was only 12. His regrets passed next. He had a surprising lot of those despite being 12:

 

He’d never tell his adorable, hard working, single mother how much he loved and appreciates her.

 

He’d never tell Marucho that he should have way more confidence in himself because, jesus, that guy was rich as balls and kind of a genius.

 

He’d never get to tell Julie that she came on way too strong, and that it really put him and others off.

 

He’d never get to tell Shun how much of an asshole he was to his face.

 

He’d never tell Drago how much he actually _did_ appreciate him, and that he really shouldn’t take him for granted.

 

He’d never tell Runo that he was in love with her.

 

He’d never...wait, he’s what?

 

**_Crash!_ **

 

The first thing Dan felt was hitting the ground hard. Or, rather, it _should’ve_ been hard, but instead it felt way softer. Next was a sharp smell that made him immediately pinch his nose. Looking around, he realized he fell right into a dumpster. Also, he was alive. That was something else he realized.

 

“Dan? Dan?! Can you hear me?!” Dan shook out of his stupor as he looked down, seeing the tiny half-sphere form of Drago crawling up his chest (man, he was getting really good at walking in that form).

 

“Yeah, I can hear you. No need to shout.” The boy responded.

 

The tiny dragon heaved a heavy sigh of relief. “Good. I thought you were dead for a second there. From what I understand, falling from great heights usually kills humans.”

 

“Well, you’re not wrong.” The boy replied as he made his way out of the garbage. With a huff, he jumped over the side and onto the ground, then gave himself a once over. There were a few stains here and there, but he was mostly unscathed. He gave himself an experimental sniff before wincing; he’d definitely need a shower later.

 

“So...we beat Masquerade!” Dan shouted out with excitement.

 

“Umm...did we?” The dragon asked, trying hard to express concern with his tiny, featureless body. “I mean, he forfeited, then threw you off a building. I’m not sure that counts as a win.”

 

“Doesn’t it?” The boy responded with a smug grin, “The way I see it, we got under his skin enough to _make_ him forfeit. So I call that a win!”

 

Drago tilted his head (which translated to him tilting his whole body) to the side. “Him? But didn’t we establish earlier that this Masquerade was actually a female?”

 

Dan suddenly froze. While he _had_ goaded the masked boy earlier, the actual implications only just registered.

 

“Wait...had boobs...was acting weird…” A sudden look of realization came to the boy, “That wasn’t Masquerade, was it? That was a fake posing as him to test us!” Dan slapped both hands to his face in frustration. “Aw man, and I fell for it!” Recovering almost immediately, he shrugged with a small grin. “Ah well, doesn't matter in the end. What does matter is WE WON!”

 

“Wait, Dan, wait…” Drago began as the boy started walking off. “That’s a massive jump in logic there. I mean, he could still teleport, right? He almost killed you!”

 

Dan waved him off dismissively. “Nah, totally a fake. There’s no way that was the real Masquerade. I mean, maybe he gave his teleport thingie to someone else to trick us. We’d never expect it, right?”

 

“Well, no, because it’s an incredibly stupid plan.” The dragon responded, only for his words to fall on deaf ears. The boy was too caught up in his own self-assured victory. He stopped as another thought came to him.

 

“Speaking of almost dying,” He started, an almost serious expression on his face. “There’s something I’ve got to do.” He pulled out his phone and searched for a name.

 

“What, did almost dying give you some big epiphany or something?” The dragon asked sarcastically. Dan nodded with a genuine smile on his face.

 

“Yeah, something I’ve got to say to someone that’s a long time coming.” Finding the name, he pressed enter and waited for the call to connect. Curious, the dragon looked up at the screen as a face appeared.

 

“Dan, what is it? I’m busy.” Came an annoyed voice.

 

Dan took in a deep breathe. “Shun, you’re an asshole!”

 

**_*Beep*_** _“Call Canceled”_

 

“Ah, that feels much better.” The boy said with a wide smile on his face. Drago could only stare in bewilderment at his partner as they made their way home.

 

\---

 

Masquerade teleported into Alice’s room. He did technically have his own room, but it was always dark and had creepy masks on the walls. When he had designed it, it seemed like a good idea:; make his room as dark and mysterious as he was. Now, it just felt incredibly dumb and childish, something that the boy needed time away from. He didn’t want to go to Hal G’s lab, for obvious reasons. So, here he was, in Alice’s room.

 

He just stood there for a moment, in the center of the room, silent and completely unmoving. Then, slowly and calmly, he walked towards a wall and gently lowered his head against it.

 

“Have a nice fall?!” He cried in distress as he reached up and grabbed a tuft of hair, “Really? Have a nice fall?! Did I really say that?!” Now in the company of his own solitude, the boy was properly allowed to go over the events that had transpired. Angry, exasperated, and overall embarrassed, the emotions came out violently as he began to bang his head against the wall in quick succession. Tears of frustration began to form in his eyes, and he was little in mind to try and hold them back. As every moment of humiliation ran through his head again and again, his face grew hotter, his tears grew bigger, and his head banging grew louder. All this continued as the tiny figure of Reaper crawled out of the boy’s pouch.

 

“Hey, you okay there, boss? You seem upset.” The half-sphere asked nervously.

 

Masquerade ceased banging his head and slightly turned toward the voice. “Yes, Reaper, I’m just fine. Whatever would give you the idea I wasn’t?” The boy asked harshly.

 

“Well, for one, you were yelling during the match, which you don’t usually do” the creature replied in an oblivious manner that the boy would find obnoxious if it weren’t so endearing. “For another, you kind of just lost a match by forfeiting back there, which you’ve _never_ done. Ever.”

 

“Really now?” The masked boy responded a touch less bitterly. “Anything else give it away?”

 

“Well, you’re also hitting your head against a wall. I feel like you don’t usually do that either.” Reaper responded in a tone that was so lacking in self-awareness yet held such genuine concern; the boy couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad at him. For a being that was named after the embodiment of death, Reaper was hilariously adorable. At least, Alice would’ve found him adorable. He wouldn’t. He didn’t find things cute; that was an Alice thing.

 

“Well, aren’t you perceptive.” Masquerade responded somewhat playfully, not really finding it in himself to be truly mean to the Bakugan.

 

The Bakugan seemed to perk up at this. “Well, I mean, it’s no big deal. I just notice things sometimes.” The creature responded earnestly, using what little mobility his hands had in that form to reach down and scratch the top of his head.

 

Masquerade bit his lip. He did not find it cute. He did NOT find it cute. He liked Reaper because he was dark, liked death, and because he was angry, like him. He DID NOT FIND THINGS CUTE!

 

Masquerade sighed as he reached up and removed his mask. His hair went from yellow to orange and fell down around his face. With a quick shake of his head, he prevented the locks from obstructing his vision.

 

“Well, I at least learned one important thing.” He said, mentally adjusting to his now more high pitched voice.

 

“Really? What?” Reaper asked, sounding sincerely curious. Masquerade made his way to a forgotten corner of the room. Reaching down, he picked up the article of clothing he’d so haphazardly tossed away only hours before. He glared at it, half hoping that, if he stared long enough, it would burst into flames. It, of course, didn’t. It just remained there, hanging listlessly from his hand.

 

“Well, more like affirmed something important,” Masquerade started, trying to quiet a sudden, queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Guys really will always notice my big-ass boobs, in this or any other clothing.”

 

With that, the boy shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath, before removing his clothes. In his head, he could almost hear the old man laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this chapter is coming out 8 months after the furst and is, for all intents and purrposes, filler. yeah, i know, i hate myself too. i f33l like arron purr with all these other writers spitting out literature like they're running out of time (is Hamilton still relevant? or am i still making out of date refurences?). i was going to add more, but who knows how long it would be till that gets done am i right? i write slow. i apawlogize if these characters seem more like char-cat-tures, but it's b33n ofur a decade since i last saw this show and my meowmory ain't purrfect. if you can get past that, i hope you enjoyed the cringey, juvenile humor. prepare fur actual psychological drama and gender-y shenanigans come the next chapter (if I don't just add the other half to this chapter later).


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